


Fly by Night

by Ambrosia29



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, eventual superpowers, musical fic challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrosia29/pseuds/Ambrosia29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surrender. Karma. Decision. In the heat of the city, a man will face himself. Heroes and villains will be revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly by Night

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for a while and wanted to just get it out there, see what you folks think. I hope you can enjoy it! I wrote a Musical Fic Challenge and decided I needed to do it myself before asking others to join me.
> 
> Plus this one is fun to work on. Don't worry, I'm still working on my other projects: life has taken a frustrating turn; I'm a stay-at-home Mom again and so have VASTLY shorter amounts of time to write again, which is why other fics haven't been updated in a while (this is directed more @ the fans of Wolf with Red Roses, I thank you all for your patience). Enjoy this fic! It's been fun working on the outline and everything. And music - YAY!

Atop the building the view was spectacular. Between the lingering sunlight and the heat dissipating into the air, the cityscape nearly glittered. As the sun set, streaks of orange and reds and purple-violets slowly moved across the sky with the clouds. The breeze was clearing them away as though the weather knew about tonight’s event.

It was why he’d brought her here.

Well, mostly why.

Here he stood, before the most beautiful woman in the world. Her blonde hair swung behind her in wild waves and curls, caught back in a braid along her scalp that reminded him of a kickass woman in some movie. Her lips were a glossy deep pink he wanted to taste no matter what graced them and her eyes sparkled at the corners with a light coat of glitter and a small gemstone in the upper corner.

Her hazel-blue eyes were wide like saucers. His fingertips, with cautious tenderness, stroked over the back of hers where they rested on his forearm. She licked her lips as if to wet them, eyes still wide with fear and on his as though tethered in place. Her palm slowly turned over beneath his fingers, small and soft delicately brushing large and rough in a trailing caress. It brought sparks to life along his skin and he closed his eyes against the desperate, terrible hope that this wasn’t in his imagination. Opened them again. Fingers delicately curled against his palm as he stood frozen by her eyes, turning to brush the backs of those tantalizing fingers into his like awkward laces. He swallowed, heart pounding, panic and the brush of the sharp-edged ring on her hand making him wrench his eyes away and withdraw inward, out over the cityscape beneath them. He leaned on the railing, closing his eyes tight.

Too close. Never close enough.

She took a deep trembling breath that if he hadn’t known better would have sounded desperate and shifted on her feet. Cautiously he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was trembling, gripping the railing with both hands white. The engagement ring caught the failing light and winked at him mockingly.

He opened his mouth to apologize but nothing came out. After a moment of blessedly unobserved embarrassment he closed it again.

“I – I have to go,” she stammered. “Jimmy.”

She left him at the railing without looking at him once and he kept looking out over the city, refusing to watch her leave. He listened to her footsteps receding as she practically fled the rooftop. The access door shut with a firm and dull thud.

It might as well have slammed on his heart.

_God, why did you have to be so selfish?_

When he finally did turn, well after the sun went down, he realized her guitar was still resting on the nearby bench.

 

 

The lights of “The Red Rail” flashed intermittently in the alley to the buildings side, casting a weird red light every thirty seconds or so. After he’d snatched up the guitar and case from the rooftop he resolved he’d simply drop it by with one of the band-members before the show.

The alley was wide enough for a truck to park and it had, just to the side of the concrete block stairs leading to the rear access door of the club. He glanced around, figuring the absence of people meant the truck was unloaded and everyone was busy inside.

He hadn’t expected to be greeted at the back door by Jimmy in farm boy-turned-city-slicker attire, dressed up. For her. The tall blonde’s eyes held steel as he looked Daryl up and down with undisguised contempt. He thought that maybe it was his still-dirty jeans and old t-shirt beneath the leather vest but something in his gaze told otherwise. The shorter man blocked the doorway, hands in loose fists at his side.

"I know you and Beth are friends and the Greenes like you, but I'm officially dis-inviting you to the wedding." Felt his eyes narrow in an answering glare.

"S’ Beth's call, ain't it?"  
  
"Not anymore. Makes me _sick_ , you know. Seeing you together."  
  
"What the hell are you -  
  
"I mean, she's always said you're just friends and she’s wearing my ring, but _you_? _I see you_. How you look at her when you think no one's looking at you. What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, you're what, _twice_ her age? Fuckin' redneck _dog_ sniffing after a young girl –

"Ain't like that."

"I don't give a shit _what_ it’s like. I get home and Beth is upset, won't talk to me except to tell me she'd seen you."  
  
Daryl visibly cringes.  
  
Jim clenches his fists and glares up at the older man. He's nearly vibrating with anger and the hot jealousy Daryl knew only too well, having watched as the young woman he loved, too good for him, tied herself to her high school sweetheart.  
  
"You fucking tried it, didn't you? Put your filthy hands on my –

Red hazed the edges of his vision and before he knew it he'd swung. It landed. He felt the impact, heard the loud _crack_ as Jimmy went down.

"You no-good sonuvabitch! That's all you know, isn’t it?" Jimmy cautiously stood, backing away and pressing a hand over his face as blood poured out of his nose. "Y'aint never gonna be good enough for her, shoulda made her drop your ass and your hopeless crush years ago. I don't ever want to see you around her again!"

Daryl took a step forward, the weight of the words ringing true like a stab to the heart as much as he wanted to deny them. He dropped the guitar case, raised his fists and Jimmy raised his own, the wicked gleam in his eyes surely reflecting his own as they squared off, years of bitter jealousy about to come to a bloody head.

A crash like ringing metal echoed through the alley and as one the men turned. A trash can had spilled over, contents falling out of the still-ringing can against the concrete. Movement drew their gaze upward at the back door of the club.

Beth stood framed in the doorway, the lid of the can dangling at her side like a shield.  
  
Or a weapon.

Her glare swept over them both and he felt it like a blow.

 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" her quiet voice pitched to carry every vibrating tone of her anger. “Get the fuck out of here.” He’d never heard her use such language.

Daryl stormed out of that alley as fast as he could.

 

 

 

“ _In just nine hours, witness the celestial event of the season, the orbit of what Astronomers once called ‘Planet X’ passing close through our solar system, straight through the constellation of Aquarius_ –

The broadcast had blared through the wall as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. The thin walls had an electronics store on the other side, which also happened to be below the apartment proper.

Thankfully everyone involved was an early riser. Excepting Merle, obviously.

Who definitely looked like he’d just rolled out of bed when Daryl opened the door. “What time is it?” the elder Dixon grumbled at him. He ignored his brother and went straight to the ‘fridge and grabbed a beer, popping it bare-handed and taking a long pull while the refrigerator door remained open before him. He finally turned and noted Merle’s eyes on him, which he ignored for the time-being. Still felt the stare when he moved through the tiny apartment to the back room.

He was stuffing a bag full of supplies when he looked up and found Merle standing in the doorway. “Better be outta my way when I’m done,” he growled, thrusting his hunting knife in after what felt like socks.

“I take it something went wrong with the Princess?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Yeah, about that –

“I mean it Merle, let it go.”

“I told you it wouldn’t end well when we moved out here!” he shouted, “Fuck, Daryl what the hell didja _think_ was gonna happen?”

“Do not blame me for this shit,” he shouted back, roughly zipping the bag shut and stepping into his brother’s space. They stood glaring at each other for a moment until Merle deliberately stepped aside and gave him room to pass.

He stomped down the hallway and grabbed his crossbow, setting it aside while he retrieved a camouflage-patterned jacket from the small rack by the door.

“Things’ve been going good,” Merle supplied from the entrance to the hallway. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, coming from that mouth.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “Like you said, it wasn’t gonna end well.” He zipped up the jacket and paused after retrieving the bow. “Be here when I get back.”

“Where the hell d’ya think you’re going?”

“Huntin.’” He opened the door and started down the stairs, leaving it wide.

“Fuckin’ figures,” Merle shouted at his back, “y’aint a city boy! Never was gonna be, not even for her!”

Before Daryl exited to the street beyond the glass door he shouted over his shoulder, “Better be fuckin’ sober when I get back here, I mean it Merle!” He stalked into the street toward the bike, daring passersby with his glance to meet his eyes.

“Please, stay off that shit,” he muttered under his breath as he mounted the motorcycle he’d left at the curb. With a roar to drown his heart's acute cry he gave himself to the wind in his ears, hoping it would be enough to mask the sound of its breaking.


End file.
